


Cats Ask Weird Questions

by comebackjessica



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Disaster Tommy Shelby, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, IKEA Furniture, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebackjessica/pseuds/comebackjessica
Summary: Alfie and Tommy building IKEA furniture, while being a brilliant concept, is interrupted in its innate fluff by Arthur being grumpy and Alfie's new puppy desperate for Tommy to love him.





	Cats Ask Weird Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyPineTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyPineTrees/gifts).



_ ©Peaky Blinders Fic Exchange 2019 for TinyPineTrees _

 

**Prompt:** I love Tommy/Alfie, so anything sort of goes, I just ask for no non-con!

_ And Tommy/Alfie you shall get! _

 

Three grown-ass adult men looked at the Ikea box laying before them like it was about to bare its werewolf fangs and tear their throats out one by one.

“ _ Dombås _ ,” Arthur read out loud the name of the wardrobe in a mock-Swedish accent.

“You’re a fuckin’ dumbass.”

“It’s a name, Alfie.”

“Yeah, mate. Yours.”

“Are you both done?” Tommy crouched down near the box and looked for the opening. “Lend me your pocket knife.” He outstretched his hand towards Alfie without even looking at him.

“How do ya even know I have one?” Alfie pretended to be shocked or offended, or both, but then Tommy gave him The Look, so he just sighed and gave Tommy what he wanted.

“Alright.” Having opened the box, Tommy took out the instruction booklet and began studying it with a slight frown.

“I swear those fuckin’ cartoons are just here to mock us, mate,” grumbled Alfie, not even paying attention to his dog who was currently attacking parts of the cardboard. 

“I just don’t understand why the bloody puppy has to be here, too, Alfie.” Tommy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Arthur started dicking around with the plastic bag full of loose screws and bolts.

“And how was I supposed to leave him in the apartment, all alone by his lonesome?” Alfie looked like Tommy had insulted him personally.

“Oh, I don’t know! Like  _ normal  _ people do?” Tommy bit back. “You and your fucking dogs, I swear…” He added and pretended to focus back on the instructions.

“Oi! I asked for your help with the furniture, I didn’t offer any time for couples counseling!” Arthur forcibly pulled his brother to the one end of the box and pointed Alfie towards the kitchen, not really daring to touch him. “There should be a drill somewhere there. Go nuts with the table, alright?”

Grumbling, Alfie scooped the puppy up from the floor and put him in the pocket of his large coat.

“Of all the people, you just had to ask  _ my ex _ for help,” Tommy barked to Arthur as soon as Alfie went to the other room.

“‘Scuse me, Tommy but I didn’t necessarily see you helpin’ with the heavy lifting so… Say whatever you want, with John being out of town this didn’t really leave us with too many options,” Arthur said.

“I was  _ navigating _ !” 

“Criticizing how we carry them fuckin’ boxes is not helping, mate!”

“Shut the fuck up, Alfie!” Tommy yelled back at him.

“Oi! Language, mate. There are kids here, eh?”

“STOP CALLING THE DOGS YOUR KIDS!”

“I’ll do as I bloody please now that I don’t have to listen to you!”

“RIGHT! That’s it, both of you SHUT! UP!” Arthur finally has had enough and forced Tommy inside the kitchen before shutting the door behind him and putting up a chair against the handle. “Go build Linda a proper fuckin’ table and talk about yer fuckin’ feelings!”

Tommy looked at Alfie with a visible scowl (though when hadn’t he, Alfie thought) and crossed his arms defiantly.

“I swear all these self-help books are messin’ with yer brother’s head, mate.” Alfie sighed and went back to building the table. “Too much Oprah, not enough fresh air, is what I think… No fucking feelings here, we die like men,” he murmured to himself.

The puppy, on the other hand, had managed to escape from his pocket and was now sniffing Tommy’s boots with keen interest.

“Go away,” Tommy barked. “I don’t like you,” he added after the dog had looked at him curiously.

“Oi! It’s a fuckin’ puppy yer being a dick to, Tommy.” Alfie put the drill down and whistled shortly, beckoning the puppy back to him. The dog, however, was fascinated with the pale, scowling creature before him and was currently very busy using all his tiny charm and effort to befriend his human’s curious ex. Tommy pretended not to notice and carefully stepped over the puppy to inspect the table.

“Do you want me to read the instructions?” He offered. 

Alfie raised one eyebrow at him and huffed.

“I know how to build a shitty Ikea table, Tommy.”

“Never said you didn’t. This way it’ll be faster,” Tommy explained, in that patient tone of his that always drove Alfie up the walls.

Alfie put the screwdriver down and rubbed his face with a dirty hand, leaving a black smear all across his cheek.

“That,” Alfie barked. “That, mate, is why you made me so damn angry all the time. That condescending, explanatory fucking tone like I’m some bloody idiot.”

“I never thought you were an idiot,” Tommy said coldly.

“I ain’t! But you explaining the simplest concepts makes me feel like one, so just don’t, alright?” Alfie sighed and went back to screwing the legs to the table frame, avoiding Tommy’s gaze. “I speak seven modern languages and one fuckin’ dead one, I don’t have to listen to you explaining stuff, God!”

Not really sure how to respond to that, Tommy stood up and tried to open the door. The handle wouldn’t turn, though, so he just sighed and turned around. The puppy was still there, eyeing Tommy and wagging its tiny tail.

“What?” Tommy snapped at the dog. “What do you want?”

Alfie stopped what he was doing and took the puppy back inside his pocket with a heavy sigh. 

“Come on, leave the guy alone. Yeah, he doesn’t like dogs. Doesn’t like any sorta livin’ creatures, for that matter, yeah?” He scratched puppy’s small soft ears. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy barked and decided to put the kettle on just to make himself busy.

“You wish, mate,” Alfie smirked and went back to the table, letting the curious puppy sniff each screw and cap before putting them together. 

Tommy busied himself with making tea and made a point of turning his back to Alfie so that he wouldn’t have to look at the undeniable cuteness of those two. The truth of the matter was, Tommy had always felt that Alfie never paid him as much attention as the dogs. Honestly, every time Alfie encountered a stray dog, the dog ended up being adopted. With the first dog, Tommy found it endearing but by the third, he felt like he was drowning.

“Do you want tea?” Tommy asked absent-mindedly, too deep in his thoughts to remember he was supposed to be mad at Alfie. Despite himself, he was eyeing Alfie building the table while sipping the perfectly brewed Earl Grey and dear God, did Alfie  _ really _ have to wear those tight Levi’s for the job?

“Is it Earl Grey?” Alfie asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Tommy barked.

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

Tommy muttered something about princesses and bad taste under his breath. He made a perfectly brewed cup for himself and sipped it while Alfie built the table. Tommy had to admit that whole screwdriver-wielding and faded-jeans-wearing was, well, still doing it for him. Despite the puppy running between Alfie’s legs, reminding Tommy that he was probably never as adored as all of Alfie’s fucking dogs.

“Help me get this up, will ya?” Alfie finally put the last screw in place and grabbed the table from the one side, looking at Tommy expectantly. “Oi, you still with us, Tommy?”

“Yes.” Tommy sipped his tea peacefully.

“So?”

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Did Alfie Solomons just ask for help?”

Alfie huffed and tried to lift the table by himself but then his left knee gave what must have been a very painful pop and he put the table back down. 

“Fuck!” He hissed and sat back down on the floor. 

“Are you done?” Tommy put the cup down, his face the mask of absolute indifference. 

“Fuck you.”

“You wish,” Tommy repeated Alfie’s previous remark with a malicious sort of smirk and lifted the table from the opposite side, putting it up with surprisingly little effort for someone so slim.

Alfie tilted his head a bit, observing his handiwork in silence before Tommy spoke again:

“You still haven’t taken care of it, have you?”

“What now?” Alfie barked, lifting himself up with slight discomfort clearly visible on his face. 

“Your knee,” said Tommy dryly. “It’s still…”

“Broken? Pretty much, yeah.” Alfie gave him a cheeky smile and put the drill back in Arthur’s tool case.

“Why?” Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“‘Cause I had an accident?” Alfie paused. “Or… yeah, that’s not what yer askin’, yeah.” Alfie turned his back to Tommy so he couldn’t see him roll his eyes at him.

“I remember the accident, Alfie,” Tommy said through clenched teeth. “I remember the hospital, too. And now you’re telling me you’re still ignoring the pain and the–”

“Yeah. I am. It’s more metal than bone at this point so,” Alfie shrugged and squeezed by Tommy to wash his hands in the sink. Tommy grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face him.

“I was scared for you,” Tommy said, now very determined to get his point across. 

“Well, and still you broke my heart.” Alfie’s usually warm smile turned sardonic. “So you don’t get to tell me what to do with my  _ fuckin’ knees _ or any other part, for that matter. We clear?”

“That’s not fair,” Tommy said, softer than before. 

Alfie looked into those big eyes of blue and hesitated for a while before saying:

“That’s life for ya, Tommy, yeah?”

And just like that, Alfie was about to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that the Shelby clan was apparently not done messing with him, yet.

“Open the door, Arthur,” Alfie barked, banging at the kitchen door.

The chair holding the handle from the other side rattled against the wooden floor.

“Right, I’m gonna get some take-out, you guys want somethin’?” Arthur said after a while, not really capable of hiding the unease in his voice. Tommy rolled his eyes again, convinced that his brother had probably been eavesdropping for a good minute there. The front door slammed shut before Alfie could say anything back.

“Fuck,” Alfie decided, fully prepared to force the door open, but then Tommy suddenly grabbed his coat, pulled him back into the kitchen, pushed him to the newly-built table and kissed him. 

It was the sort of desperate kiss that left Alfie’s mind hazy, his lips parted and his heart racing. 

“You don’t–”

“Shut the fuck up, Alfie,” Tommy whispered into his mouth and kissed him again, tasting the kiss curiously as if to check if somebody else had kissed Alfie when Tommy lost the privilege of doing it. 

Fully set on erasing all others before and after him, Tommy bit Alfie’s bottom lip and then traced it with his tongue, completely aware that he was slowly but surely turning his ex’s usually sharp mind into a hot, wet mess that could project only one picture and one name.

“Tommy…” Alfie took a deep breath.

“Shh.” Tommy kissed him again but before he could further ensnare Alfie with his voodoo, Alfie put both hands on Tommy’s shoulders and gently pushed him away. 

“Stop.”

“Why? You want this, I want you.” Tommy backed out, though, seeing how dark and serious Alfie’s expression went. “What?”

Alfie looked at him and said nothing, which caused Tommy’s heart to race, and not in a good way.

“What?” Tommy repeated. “Say it.”

Alfie sighed and leaned back on the table.

“And what, I fuck you on the table and we go our separate ways? Maybe I’ll follow you on Instagram in a week, that it?”

“I don’t have Instagram,” said Tommy, disgusted beyond measure.

Alfie snorted.

“Not my point, mate.”

“It’s just…” Tommy said and then looked away, unable to come up with any sort of clever idea that would make sense right now.

“Just what? Hm? You questioning me every minute of every goddamn day? Accusing me of sleeping around? Taking it out on the dogs? Unable to tell me what’s wrong to the point where you leave a  _ fuckin’ break-up note  _ on my kitchen table? Hm? That it?”

“Alright!” Tommy shot him an angry glance. “I get your point,” he hissed. “We’re a horrible match. That’s what you wanted to say?”

“Nah,” Alfie sighed. “That’s not the problem.”

“So?”

“So I can’t do this anymore. Can’t be without you, can’t be with you, I don’t know how to love you the right way, yeah? That’s, right, that’s my fuckin’ problem. I don’t know how to show you I care, I don’t know how to make you believe me.”

Tommy went quiet for long while before patting his pockets for cigarettes.

“You did just fine before,” he said, finally, unable to find them.

“Aye, I think so,” Alfie said softly. “Loving you ain’t easy, Thomas.” 

“No,” Tommy looked down, not really wanting to face him until Alfie said:

“Can’t change what you want, though, eh?” 

Tommy’s face showed hope for a second when he finally managed to look Alfie in the eye. They looked at each other and neither wanted to break the silence, in fear that what they’d hear next could break them completely. Then, Alfie decided to be the braver man:

“So my proposition, yeah, is that you should marry me. To know that I love your sorry ass, Thomas.”

Tommy cocked one eyebrow but seeing that Alfie was completely serious, he laughed softly, not really knowing what to say. It was the kind of laugh that made Alfie’s heart melt. It was the real kind, the genuine “I like you” kind that had caused Alfie to fall so fucking hard for this man and that later made getting over Tommy so helplessly unbearable.

“Yes,” Tommy said finally and pecked Alfie on the lips. 

“You sure?” The slightest hint of a smile lingered on that gorgeous plush mouth before Tommy kissed Alfie again, this time causing him to smile wider.

“Yes.” Tommy rested his head against Alfie’s shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“‘Cause this time I won’t be able to get over you if you dump me again. I will throw my sorry ass into the sea and haunt you until the very end of time, yeah?” Alfie put his hands in the back pockets of Tommy’s jeans and pulled him closer. “Stop smiling, Shelby, right, ‘cause I’m dead serious.”

“Oh, you are? I never realized.” Tommy chuckled. “Which sea, though?”

“Not the most important part of the story, mate.”

“No, I disagree, this is very important, Alfie. I’ll have to tell our children one day, what kind of story would that make?  _ Children, your father threw himself into the sea but it’s not important which one. _ ”

“Oh, right, you’ll get me pregnant and  _ then  _ dump me, is that so? Classy, Tommy, very fuckin’ classy.”

“Alfie?”

“What now?”

“I really don’t know how to tell you this…”

“It was a joke, mate. Relax.”

“No, I just mean that with your bad knee I’m not sure it’s the best idea for you to carry our children, is all.”

“Ay, fuck off,” Alfie laughed and this time he kissed Tommy first and didn’t let go until they heard the front door slam again and both took a step away from each other like schoolboys, caught red-handed by the principal.

“Oi, it’s awfully quiet in there but if neither of you idiots is dead I brought ramen and spring rolls!” Arthur yelled from the corridor and removed the chair from the handle.

When Arthur entered the kitchen and saw Tommy and Alfie holding hands, he didn’t even try to act the least bit surprised.

“Well, well, well,” Arthur said, obviously very pleased with himself.

“Fuck off, Arthur.” Alfie pretended to be annoyed but Tommy squeezed his hand tighter and stopped him from saying another word.

“Yeah, who’s the dumbass now, Solomons?”

“Still you, mate. At this point I’m just fucking lucky.” Alfie pulled Tommy closer and kissed him slowly, ignoring the eldest Shelby’s disgusted expression.


End file.
